


Unspoken

by darenotdare



Category: The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hicsqueak, gay witches in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darenotdare/pseuds/darenotdare
Summary: Pippa Pentangle and Hecate Hardbroom meet again after their reconciling at Cackle's.





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something so my works count isn't stuck at zero. :)

Hecate Hardbroom is distracted. How is she to concentrate on the theoretical and practical expansion of uses for achilea milefolium when she knows who is behind her, exactly two rows back and three seats over. 

She had arrived just before the lecture had begun, standing out so prominently against the bland palate of the conference room. Grey chairs, white walls, and then - a splash of pink, like a shooting star across an otherwise empty sky. 

Hecate shuts her eyes and counts to five. The butterflies in her stomach continue to dance up, down, all around. She continues her count; six, seven, eight. At ten, her eyes shift to the clock on the wall, to her left. She is to her right. 

Ever stubborn, Hecate steadfastly refuses to turn and cast a glance that way. 

The minutes continue to tick away. For every word of the lecture Hecate manages to absorb, two more fade away. She breathes in, slowly, letting the air expand her chest. As she exhales, her eyes close once more, searching for focus. Instead she finds blonde hair, bright eyes, soft features. 

Even her mind is betraying her. 

***  
Pippa Pentangle is tense. She hides it well, of course, face adorned with a gentle smile as she glides into the room, a small wave to an old colleague as they cross paths. As she selects a seat, she does so with purpose - two rows back and three seats over. Close enough for Hecate to be entirely aware of her presence, and far enough away that Pippa is able to appraise the dark haired witch in relative anonymity.

When Hecate had divulged she was attending this particular teachers’ conference, Pippa had wasted no time registering as well. It was thoroughly impulsive; an opportunity she could not have bared to pass up, though she had questioned her decision once, twice, a hundred times since that moment. For all that they had finally shared in their brief moments alone at Cackle’s, there is still so much that is left unsaid. 

Pippa wants to fill that silence, she has come here with the intention of filling that silence, but the implications of doing so overwhelm her. 

She wants Hecate - has always wanted Hecate. She has tried to forget, endeavored to move on. But no witch has ever compared. Not as strong. Not as smart. Not as engaging. 

Not as. Never as. 

***  
Pippa Pentangle and Hecate Hardbroom are alone. That’s not entirely accurate. They are in fact two people among dozens. When their gazes finally meet, it only seems like they are the only two in the room. The cacophony of pleasant banter and small talk that surrounds them fades away as they lock eyes. 

Pippa cannot help but stare, mesmerized by the woman in front of her. It has always been this way; Hecate has never failed to captivate her attention. It begins with her eyes. Dark, deep. Engrossing. Her long, lean frame, ensconced in a high collared, floor length dress that nonetheless manages to reveal as much as it conceals. Her dark mane of hair, pulled up tightly and mostly hidden atop her head. Oh how Pippa longs to uncoil it, to dig her hands what she is certain is luxurious softness and watch the delicate strands fall loose and frame that stoic face. 

Pippa knows that stoicism is a mask that Hecate wears, concealing the precious, fragile soul underneath. She longs so very much to see the Hecate that lies underneath it once more. Fond memories of fleeting moments flood Pippa’s mind - unbridled excitement, childish joy, glinting eyes, a brilliant smile. Hecate unencumbered. So rare, so special. Oh how she wants to share in that side of this beautiful woman again. 

She wants that side to be hers. No. She wants that side to be theirs. 

There is pink on Hecate’s lips and it brings a smile to Pippa’s face. Whether factual or not, she takes it as a sign, an invitation, a call. She steps forward, closing the distance between them, and hopes that there is room for even more.

***  
Hecate Hardbroom and Pippa Pentangle are alone. Well and truly alone. The break between sessions has ended and the small crowd has dissipated. Except for them. Hecate cannot bring herself to leave this room for another even though every fibre of her being has encouraged her to flee. 

It has been years, decades even, since Pippa stole her heart. She remembers that night, the one before that fateful day. Hecate stares down at the floor, mentally tracing the spiral patterns in the well worn hotel carpet. Though she has tried valiantly over the years to put those moments to rest in her mind, they still linger, fresh as though it had only been yesterday. The distance Hecate had kept between herself and her classmates had been calculated and purposeful. Pippa had bridged that distance. That closeness had been so tantalizing. But also overwhelming. 

Like a moth to a flame, Hecate was - is, always is - drawn to Pippa. And now, just as it was then, she so very much fears what it will feel like when, inevitably, she is burned. Pippa Pentangle stole Hecate Hardbroom’s heart. Having not known what to do once it happened, Hecate had stolen it back. She had buried it, underneath harsh words and false truths of love unrequited. 

Her heart has never forgiven her.

***  
Pippa Pentangle is standing in front of Hecate Hardbroom. Hecate’s breath is now caught in her throat. With every step closer Pippa had taken, she had felt every lost year, month, week and day. Their weight is unnerving and she cannot help but look away. 

“Please don’t be angry,” Pippa whispers, reaching a hand up to turn Hecate’s face towards her own. 

Anger. Such a complex emotion, so often worn to guard oneself from the judgements of the outside world. It is a cloak, warm and comforting when circumstances prove uncertain and unpredictable. There is a certain safety in anger. Hecate understands anger, oftentimes embraces it. 

Hecate is not angry. 

She feels the warmth of Pippa’s soft hand and does not resist as it gently encourages her gaze forwards. Finally, she speaks, her voice soft. Tentative. 

“I’m not angry.” her eyes are still cast towards the ground. “I…” she stops.

Hecate wishes she was angry. What she feels instead confuses her, terrifies her. 

She brings her hand up, slowly, lets it rest against Pippa’s, which still has not moved from her cheek. The pair stands motionless, moments ticking by, the silence weighing on them both. It is Hecate who tries to pull away, though this is a surprise to neither. Refusing to let history repeat itself, Pippa closes her eyes, bites down on her lip, and brings her other hand up, a matched pair on either side of deep, dark pools she cannot currently see. 

“Please don’t,” Pippa whispers, and Hecate stops. No amount of years can erase that voice from her mind. She remembers the last time Pippa had pleaded with her, the painful strain in her voice as those same two words had been breathed. 

A tear escapes her, falls involuntarily, wetting Pippa’s fingertips much to Hecate’s chagrin. She wills herself to let no more follow suit. 

“Pipsqueak, I…” Hecate finds the words cut off as Pippa’s hand slides across her cheek and down to her lips, her index finger coming to rest there. 

“Shhh,” Pippa responds, and her hands do not move. Steadying her resolve, she opens her eyes, dark meeting darker. She has been captured now; she cannot think of looking away. She raises herself on tiptoes and encourages Hecate’s lips to meet hers. The single digit blocks them from fully meshing and seals in so many words left unspoken. 

***


End file.
